


Candied Hearts

by vilepie



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Chocolate, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Glasses, M/M, Pianist Austria (Hetalia), Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:47:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29443584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vilepie/pseuds/vilepie
Summary: Language barriers are capable of being overcome, and do nothing but provide more ways to say "I love you." In every nation, words are shared each day, from dawn, to evening. Words form sentences, sentences compose conversations, and conversations between lovers are ceaseless, just as the flow of time.
Relationships: Austria/Hungary (Hetalia), Estonia/Lithuania (Hetalia), Lithuania/Prussia (Hetalia), Portugal/Lithuania
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	1. The Keys of My Heart (Aus/Hun)

She would consider herself a caregiver, though in more ways than one. It wasn’t her main concern, but Erzsébet wouldn’t deny her reputation for taking care of her family, and her enemies. She had a name, and, despite that, the one thing she couldn’t care for properly was a piano. That wasn’t to say she wasn’t musically, or artistically inclined. War was art, one form that she admired above all, and so was fashion, another of her personal favourites. Music happened to hold a special place as well. Songs played the strings of her heart superbly, rivaling her renowned playing of the violin.

The two instruments worked in harmony, and held a shocking amount of similarities. Both the violin, and her emotions were capable of being played, and Erzsébet couldn’t help but believe that was what was happening to her currently. She was frustrated beyond belief, and not because she allowed some fool to get the better of her. Rather, Erzsébet was fuming because she let some thing get the better of her, and she couldn’t determine if that was worse than getting cheated by some ignorant pig.

It didn’t matter, because she was being mocked either way, and was about to call it; nearly willing to fall back on her least favourite option, and step away from the piano, as well as her creative ambitions. Nearly didn’t mean completely, however, and with a sigh, she decided to take a break from her equally sweet, and evil plotting to wipe down the instrument before her. Erzsébet didn’t know if it were possible for the piano to need any thorough scrubbing, but nothing extra hurt. So, she took the rag she previously tossed atop the shiny black piano, and dashed away to soak it with frigid water from the sink. It was just about unfathomable for the piano to be excessively dirty, but Erzsébet had quickly found that their house was quite the opposite unless she had a say in it. She didn’t particularly mind cleaning, they had been in peace times for decades, and boredom was quick to set in, but the layout of the residence made it an all day task. It was the epitome of grandiose, though the prestige was significantly dampened by its location. The white walled, and hazel roofed manor sat in Hungary’s countryside, completely surrounded by oaks, save for where the smoothly paved driveway snaked towards the east where it eventually went to connect to the drives of other equally extravagant houses.

Secluded, and large were what made this place feel like home, but the traits backfired once a week when Erzsébet set herself to work. There were three stories to be cleaned. The top floor acted as a house in itself meant exclusively for her, and Roderich, the middle consisting of guest rooms, and the ground being composed of storage, offices, and a sizeable dining area. Three stories, and the only break she ever got was the piano on the top floor. Erzsébet skipped over it two days prior, and today was ready to redeem herself, wet cloth in hand.

On the third floor, the right wing held bedrooms, storage, and utilities, and the left held entertainment, as well as a kitchen which aided in soaking the rag Erzsébet allowed to drip onto the grey tile, and then the red carpet beneath her boots. This was to be the easiest part of her self imposed chore, and she treated it as such, humming as she gently swiped over the keys, prior dilemma momentarily forgotten.

Erzsébet was creative, and technical, but tomorrow was already testing her. She had about two hours left to solve three problems, and two of those issues bordered on impossible, even after spending three days pondering the subject. Cleaning the piano was easy. The rest was a matter of giving Roderich a heart attack, only to revive him with kindness. Undoubtedly cliché, but it was the thought that mattered, except for right now, the thought wasn’t working. The intention was to provide Roderich with the illusion that his beloved instrument had been broken. That begged the question of how to do that without actually causing harm. Phase two was attempting to help him fix the mysterious issue, but instead revealing a stash of hidden goodies that may, or may not be dangerously close to the strings controlling the sound of Roderich’s favourite keys.

It was totally innocent, and totally funny. That is, provided Erzsébet took the proper precautions to ensure nothing ended up in need of repair, or replacement. What those precautions were, she didn’t know. It wasn’t as if she could inquire about the ‘what ifs’ of breaking a piano either. Roderich had the tendency to be oblivious, though not as bad as some of their colleagues, but nothing regarding music could slip past him, especially if anything “inhumane” was involved as well.

Relying on others was not something Erzsébet did with pride, or at all for that matter, and she had plenty reason to remain set in those habits, Gilbert namely. She was independent, even when politics stated otherwise, and her tact for getting things done put a barrier between her, and being desperate enough to seek help. It truly was frustrating, just as it was all too easy to take that fury out on the rag suspended above the kitchen sink. Erzsébet watched the water that flowed from the cloth she strangled, the lack of any discolouration furthering her worries that this project would prove harder than she originally believed. This piano could not be jeopardized.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whooo! first published hetalia fic, and it's just in time for valentine's. more valentine's drabbles are on the way, too! i might go on to continue this one depending on feedback. i just thought i had found a decent stopping place. well, hopefully that's the case. hope everyone has an amazing holiday!   
> edit- soooooo.... pasting doesn't preserve paragraphs. oops. sorry about that haha.


	2. Supernova (Portugal/Lithuania)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some warnings for this chapter! i'm not as well versed when it comes to portugal due to accessibility. this chapter might show portugal as out of character. another thing is that i tried to research geography, but i can't promise everything is completely accurate. thank you!

Mornings were slow, and had always been, even prior to the times their paths had intertwined. It was a constant, which was something Afonso noted that Tolys thoroughly enjoyed, and truly needed. They worked themselves into a routine within just a month of living together. The alarm was set for six in the morning on weekdays, giving them a full thirty minutes to ease into the waking world.  Rather that thirty minutes was necessary was up for debate. Rough nights were still frequent, and the both of them rarely had the energy to spring up from the bed as soon as the demanding sound flooded their room. Afonso was usually the first to drag himself upwards, taking it upon himself to awaken Tolys with whispered reassurances. It was the exact treatment he had needed centuries ago, and Afonso gladly provided it for Tolys. 

Today, however, Afonso intended to provide more. The current state of their homelands were quite the opposite, Tolys working on getting out into the world, while he turned to fixing inner struggles. Luck had fallen upon them, though, Tolys being given the ability to recuperate. He was capable of picking, and choosing his meetings, a situation he was careful not to take advantage of when other nations weren’t involved. When there weren’t any big decisions to be made, Tolys wrote his reports, and sent emails from home, their home. A coastal manor in northern Portugal that was only left vacant when duty called. The only issue was that, for Tolys, duty tended to call from the ground floor of their residence. The first story housed offices, one of which held Tolys’ computer, and Afonso was prepared to cut off the Wi-Fi if push came to shove. It was a Saturday, and any email that dare to interrupt their day was bound to be insignificant.

Despite the fact that it was a holiday, much less a weekend, Afonso had refused to turn off the alarm. The only change in their regime was that he had disentangled himself from Tolys rather quickly, and bounced around the room to clean up, and get dressed without a word to his slumbering partner. He was careful to be quiet as he closed drawers, using his finger to minimize the effect of impact. Afonso held back on his typical humming, biting his lip as he buttoned up his pristine white shirt, and slipped on a pair of skintight brown paints after his shower. He had also refrained from putting on shoes, and socks were opted against as well. His bare feet would have, did have, better traction against the polished floors. Afonso used that to his advantage after he was clothed, swiftly cleaning up the connected bathroom to spare Tolys some worries, and using the hardwood beneath his feet to propel himself out of their bedroom. He was headed towards the kitchen, with plenty mind paid to shutting the door on his way out. 

The entire house, with zero exceptions, not even the exterior, donned spotless white walls, and polished hardwood. That is, save for the windows that composed at least half of the walls of general rooms on the top floor. The second story had bathrooms, bedrooms, and storage rooms branching off a main hallway that also granted access to a spiral staircase. On the far east, and far west sides, the hall gave way to two large rooms, both cut in half by a bar dividing kitchen, and dining, from entertainment. Afonso’s room, which had quickly become Tolys’ room as well, lay closer to the east end that provided a view of the ocean. Tolys had grown fond of the scenery, stating it was reminiscent of his own home, and that was all it took for it to become their personal kitchen, and lounging area.

It was perfect, and it was sitting right on their doorstep, which definitely had to be Afonso’s second favourite bit. The first was the reaction he was anticipating from Tolys. The goal was to prepare breakfast. Both of them usually passed up on food in the morning, instead scrambling for coffee, and tea. The only difference was that the intention was to wake him up late, making food infinitely more appealing. That, as well as the fact that opposed to preparing something typical, by Afonso’s standards at least, he was aiming for something from Tolys’ land. Afonso allowed himself an ample amount of time for mistake, and purchased a surplus of ingredients for backup meals. The only ‘what ifs’ stemmed from Tolys’ ability to sleep late, and Afonso’s ability to ruin breakfast repetitively. He wanted to believe the odds were in his favour, but faith was never his strong suit. 

There was a fifty-fifty chance, and, before setting to work with baking, Afonso debated flipping a coin on the outcome so that he knew what attitude he should begin with. Taking time to do that, however, would only set him back. That was the thought that plagued Afonso’s mind as the sun rose, and, eventually, Tolys rose as well. He woke up sooner than expected, but that was more so due to Afonso underestimating himself. One try, and about one hour later, he was shuffling back towards the bedroom, regretting his decision to ditch socks. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i genuinely have no idea how this happened. it just did. i think my thought process was along the lines of the idea that both of them have similar views of themselves, as far as i have seen. i see them both as viewing themselves as having "burned bright, and faded out." like i said, my perception of portugal probably isn't completely accurate. soooo, i'd like to know what you guys think of him! :D  
> almost forgot! i might add on to this chapter. i have some more written, but as it went it became less of a drabble, and it was also hard to find a better stopping point.


	3. Time, and Time Again (Pru/Liet)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter has some more serious warnings. this chapter was written to depict the effects of history, ivan specifically, on tolys, and gilbert. depression can be hinted at, and religious trauma was kept in mind during the writing of this. make sure to take care of yourself, and get help if you need it. <3

They had always been noted as complete opposites, yet the similarities that held them intact more often times than not prevailed. Tolys had heard the term workaholic used in both good, and bad context, while Gilbert seemed oblivious to the words used to describe his carelessness. Both traits fit their respective owners to an extent, but the depths of each of their personalities were rarely brought to light. The realization that they weren’t as different as everyone made them out to be, even by leaders whose words could have been nothing more than strategy, was derived from a tumultuous situation that mimicked the swells of emotion that drove one of them, but were repressed by the other. 

Their similarities held more power than their differences, and not merely in the sense of lovers who keep pushing through. Gilbert, and Tolys both had dates engraved into their brains, and, unfortunately, Valentine’s Day wasn’t at the top of the list. Tolys’ old birthday lay too close on one end, meanwhile another sensitive day for them both held variations throughout February, and March. These weeks were spent with less conversations, and more silent reassurances. The dice typically rolled away from them wanting to confront what they had sorted out together a little over two decades ago. They always landed on a dull ache, and phantom pains; the game never ended no matter how many years passed. 

They had no choice but to continue playing, and that was exactly what Gilbert found himself repeating in his head on the morning of the 14th. The alarm had been kept off, both Tolys, and Gilbert rarely making it to meetings anymore, though for entirely different reasons. Instead of a blaring ringtone that typically did more harm than good, Gilbert was thrust into the waking world by a fatal grip on his bare shoulder. Confusion set in, as did his own wild thrashing, when he failed to make sense of his surroundings. Gilbert’s will to fight kept him blinded, focusing on nothing more than who could possibly be out to get him. The sleep induced haze refused to wear off until the seemingly relentless hand retreated, moving along to spasm among the now twisted bed sheets. His next priority was untangling himself from the waves of pristine white that were dead set on separating him from the hand whose origin had resurfaced in Gilbert’s mind.

“Tolys?” Gilbert whispered.

He freed himself from the cloths that held him captive, having done so by swinging his legs over the side of the bed, taking the sheets with him. Had Tolys not slept fully clothed, that was one thing that marked them as opposites, the frigid air of the room would’ve already done Gilbert’s job. The chill had the liberty of taking hold of Tolys, and freeing him from the horrors sleep brought with it, yet Gilbert was missing such a valuable asset. He had no choice but to watch from the sidelines, and hope that his sweet nothings snaked their way around Tolys’ body, encasing him with warmth, opposed to the cold that never could tear through his clothes.

“Tolys? It’s me. C’mon, it’s fine. We’re in Germany, remember?” 

As he spoke, he increased his volume. Gilbert desperately needed to pull Tolys back to safety, and out of the grips of his seemingly self destructive mind. The only issue was not frightening him. He had to dance around the matter at hand, mindful of every step, twist, and turn he made. Strategy was something Gilbert was far from known for, and his carefulness was derived from nothing more than habit. He had learned his lesson the first time he was there when sleep failed to provide Tolys relief, shaking the other awake proving to be a wrong move. Gilbert quite literally pushed Tolys over the edge, sending him into frenzy that cost Gilbert a slap to the face, and didn’t end until he was able to work it into Tolys’ head that they were alone.

They had been alone for awhile, the only other presence that wandered through their house being the lingering memories from the 11th century onwards. There was a mass of pain, regret, and anger that moped around, and there was no more action they could take against it. Around the turn of the 20th century, Gilbert took matters into his own hands, having no lawyer to rid him of the resident that was overstepping too many bounds. He had beat it down, but the action was only a reminder of the other things he left in his path of destruction.

One of those things was Tolys. The missing link that kept his invisible companion barely clinging to life, still managing to feed off of Gilbert, albeit taking smaller bites. Upon their reunion, it became too easy to overlook their differences, and see the similarities. Tolys had his own overbearing friend, much larger, and far more violent. Gilbert wanted to get rid of both of them, and that started with his former enemy. 

It began, and had almost ended, for Gilbert at least. The only thing he could remember hearing is that it takes time, which was something that seemed to slip through his fingers, but never falling without leaving residue stuck to his hands. Gilbert had time, and so did Tolys. The one difference was that Gilbert’s time was peaceful, and fell too fast. Tolys’ time was torture, and practically crawled back into his grip. 

He longed to give Tolys some of his time, and, by the mid 20th century, it had become a reality that was far more painful than in his dreams. Gilbert had the luck of bouncing back afterwards, while Tolys was pegged down by the weight of what just couldn’t seem to leave him alone. Gilbert was stubborn, and that was the one thing true to the character people tended to give him. He used some of his time, waiting, and offered the rest up to Tolys when the 21st century was on their doorstep.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Gilbert inquired, reusing the old question that always seemed to be on the tip of his tongue.

Time was, once again, the problem that loomed far above all others. Two more grueling weeks, and the month was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i saw someone mention gilbert having religious trauma, and i can't remember who it was, but i'm near certain that headcanon is what led me to liking pruliet. it really hits home for me, and i've used it in some drafts to express my own feelings. on a bit of a less serious note- I'M SO SORRY. valentine's day is supposed to be happy but i just,,,, i couldnt- it just happened, and i felt so guilty writing this. just the thought of pruliet being an angsty ship, and february 16th so close....


	4. Sweet, and No Longer Sour (Est/Liet)

The time for relaxation, for everything a relationship should be, had come, and with the tossing out of decades of suffering, confidence had its chance to seep into their lives. A different kind of confidence, one not born from instinct, or the negativity looming in the air, was what made up the miniscule stash Eduard assumed Tolys had tapped into the first time he caught him wearing his glasses. He adored every moment of the scene until Tolys used his own decent eyesight to seek out Eduard where he stood leaning against the bathroom doorframe.

Regardless of Tolys’ damaged self view, it was obvious there was no convincing the other how perfectly fine the situation was. He was guilty of something that was far from a crime, the apologies unceasing until he forced Tolys into taking his turn in the shower, the quotidian event shifting from the norm to allow Eduard to accompany him. Silence didn’t seem to be the answer, however, Eduard never again having the pleasure of observing Tolys’ curiosity. 

Months gave ample time to heal from the embarrassment, among countless other things, and it also gave just enough time to scheme against Tolys. It wasn’t a question of money, or setting up, but rather an issue of when the idea came. Once it wormed its way into Eduard’s mind, it was just one more thing that refused to leave, instead opting to build a home. It was an itch he had to satisfy, and he did so by snagging the least expensive, anything would look outstanding on Tolys, pair of sunglasses he could find on his latest shopping trip.

Handing a gift bag over to Tolys had been less of an incident, and more of a gag once Eduard assured it was merely a joke. It was a joke, one that seemed to feed off their own immortality, though Tolys constantly argued that it was due to Raivas’ ability to get his hands on humiliating information, and Eduard’s ability to provide it. 

A tease, perhaps, in more way than one, and Eduard wasn’t giving up. Of course, a pair of glasses most likely wasn’t on Tolys’ mind at the moment, excitement permeating the air, but lacking a spark to set anything more than tame into action.

His gift wasn’t a match; Eduard didn’t need one. All he needed was to give Tolys his cue to open the box. His hesitance was only proof of the thoughts swirling around his mind, one of them standing out above all, and keeping Eduard standing still himself. He was going to bask in this. He was going to let Tolys sit there until he could either taste the anticipation, or taste what he held.

It was a white cardboard box, a shimmery green ribbon accenting its longer side which almost covered the length of Tolys’ lap. The width spanned only over a sliver of Tolys’ thighs, covered in skintight brown pants, just as his shoulders carried the weight of a deep green cardigan, and a brown undershirt. Picture perfect, and Eduard’s offering was sure to match not only Tolys’ colour scheme, but that of the cabin they shared, though the latter held extra neutral colours. That, according to Tolys at least, would make things perfect as well.

Flawless, but that would only be after the explosion he was certain to cause died down. He sat the bag that had been handed to him, full of sweets, and some recent technology Tolys undoubtedly needed help to purchase, next to the sofa, and took his seat, further disturbing Tolys’ already trembling leg.

“Fine. Go on,” Eduard sighed, pressing his hands in between his knees.

Tolys didn’t wait for further confirmation, that curiosity Eduard had been missing mingling with an innocent expression upon his face. He used his nails for good this time, picking at the ribbon until he was able to wriggle his fingers beneath it, and tear it away from the box. A smile, or at least something reminiscent of one, took shape as he lifted the lid, only to swoop in as a full fledged grin once he registered the meaning behind what he was given.

“You’ve got to be insane,” Tolys chuckled, tearing his eyes away to look up at Eduard.

“Maybe the person who made it was insane,”

Eduard countered, pausing to point at the plastic covered goods laying among blue velvet.

“I hear it’s popular in Alfred’s home. People pay a lot- a-” 

Eduard silenced himself when Tolys snorted, poking at the plastic wrap. The crunching was loud enough to rival Tolys’ laughter, and that was enough for Eduard to snatch the thing up before it could torment him anymore. There was a price to pay for that, though, his fingers fumbling around with the screeching material in order to open it, and free its contents. 

Chocolate, carved into something Eduard once hated. Shimmering glasses, probably edible glitter, whose lens did nothing except paint a border around Tolys’ head. He set the gourmet sweet down upon the glass coffee table, eager to retrieve a kiss from Tolys' chapped lips before they tasted like chocolate instead of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this wasn't planned, nor was it what i had planned. i just sat down for a few minutes, and here i am. but yahoo!! estliet!! i can't believe i used to live without this ship. thank you guys!! <3 take care!


End file.
